Anything Goes
by little-sunshine11
Summary: The Harris family had it all: the finest cars, the biggest, beautiful homes, and stunning, photogenic looks. They were unstoppable. Never in their lives had they failed or suffered losses. They were convinced they could control their own destiny and the lives of others around them. Then, the bombs fell. Two-hundred years later, the youngest Harris faces the cruel wasteland alone.


_**A/N:** I really, really love Fallout. In fact, it's like my main fandom, so I had to write a story for it. Happy Fourth of July, by the way! With the aesthetic of Fallout being the 40's to early 60's, I was super bummed that there were no references to the Kennedy family at all throughout the game. Come on, you got the American Revolution, baseball, but no mentions of the biggest family in America at the time? In their home city? Naturally, I had to fix this by creating my own larger than life Kennedy-esque clan. The Harris family were originally going to be side characters in another Fallout fic with another Sole Survivor, but I like them too much. _

* * *

"G-Good morning, Vault-Tec calling."

Damn it, he stuttered.

"Howdy, sir! Vault-Tec wants you- yes you, to register for your vault!"

No, no, that sounded terrible. What was he supposed to be a cowboy? Who said 'howdy' besides those down in Texas and in the old John Wayne films?

George Morris normally didn't practice his lines. After twenty years on the job, he knew the song and dance by heart at this point, but today was different. He could knock on any average Joe's door and give his spiel; he was a master at it.

But to the Harris family? He had better make sure he didn't fuck this up or corporate would have his head. God, he was so close to getting his steak knives, too.

George had been working comfortably in Concord for about two years before being suddenly and abruptly moved to Sanctuary Hills a week ago. Apparently, the guy stationed there before him quit out of nowhere, and corporate was desperate for someone to fill in until they found a permanent replacement. He would've thought that they would have someone by now, but when asking around the office about it, all he got was radio silence. Nothing. At this point, he accepted he was stuck there for good and made the most of it.

Concord was a small but friendly town with most of the populace in the lower to middle-class range like himself. He could easily relate to those he was talking to and convince them to register by playing off their fears: you won't have to worry about bills, there will be food and water for you and your children, and no one's kicked from the vault because they're too poor. Most of them had or knew someone who served in the military, so they barely had to pay a dime. The smiles of relief on their faces was pretty damn rewarding.

Sanctuary Hills, however, was an entirely different story. It was for the elite, a second rate Hyannis Port, where only the wealthiest lived. George always felt a sense of dread whenever he drove up the wooden bridge and saw the large mansions and compounds. The estates were easily going into the millions. He could barely afford his two bedroom colonial. And the people? They were brutal. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would get airheaded trophy wives answering the door and simply nod along to every word he said, but usually, he ended up as their personal punching bag. He had taken abuse, it was natural given his profession to encounter some less than congenial customers, but never had he faced so much of it in a single week. Never were there threats to report him that actually held weight to it or insults about his income before now. These socialite types were the first to ever question how much he made. In the end, it was obvious who his superiors would favor, and it wouldn't be him. They needed their money; they could always replace him.

The Harris family would be the most intimidating to stare down. They were the textbook definition of Boston new money: Irish Catholics to the core living in a large, old WASP neighborhood just to spite them. The patriarch, James Harris Sr., had been an executive at OEI Motion Pictures before serving as the Ambassador to the United Kingdom. Recently, though, he had been investing money into Vault-Tec. A lot of money. George had heard rumors about him in the office- shady deals he did behind the scenes with the mob. With today's climate and the resources being so limited, it was nearly impossible to be as ridiculously rich as they were unless they were House. One of the water cooler topics was that Sr. had been funding notorious Irish crime boss Eddie Winter to help get votes for his oldest son, James Jr.'s, Senate run when he got back from serving in the Navy.

Sr. was ruthless. It was well-known throughout the city how he conducted his business deals; how he would hound you relentlessly, go to unethical lengths to get what he wanted, and always had to win. Losing wasn't allowed for either James Harris Sr. or his children.

George hated that he knew so much about this family. He hated how every time he turned on his damn TV or picked up the paper, they'd be staring up at him with their damn smarmy, smug grins and flaunting all the things he couldn't afford: the newest sports cars, jewelry spanning into the hundreds of thousands, their luxury summer homes in Florida. Whatever they did, whatever they said, the media would be right behind them, documenting it all. Jess Harris got a Giddyup Buttercup for Christmas? Kelly Harris got married and had a son? Jack Harris was spotted with a dame at a bar? Wow, how had George gone his life without knowing this? Truly, now he could sleep at night.

The Harris family was pouring money into Vault-Tec, though, and that meant a raise, so George could live with the constant bombardment of news. He just prayed he didn't fuck this up. He had tried calling them for days now to set up an appointment and he got no response. Corporate had given him strict orders to get them to sign up by the end of the week no matter what. Damn, they must have been desperate.

He stepped out of his Vault-Tec van, fixing his tie in the side-view mirror before making his way down the long driveway to the front porch. George paused for a moment when he saw the newest models of Cherry Bombs and Corvegas lined up. Hell, he couldn't recognize some of these, so they must have been coming out to the public next year. That was one of the nice things about being rich, you got the good stuff before everyone else. People would, and probably given the tensions today, kill for cars like this. The one car that got his attention the most, however, wasa light blue Station Wagon. A commoner car. Everyone had one these days, but a Harris? They could afford the finest automobiles in the world- why would they want a simple, cheap van? The infant car seat in the back makes him wonder if it's the daughter's car; the one that had the baby a few months back. What, did daddy's money stop coming in?

George has to stay focused. He's got a job to do. He walked up the steps, past the rocking chairs on the porch, and rang the doorbell. There was chaos. Even with the door shut, he could hear shouts and children trampling throughout the house and a baby's wails. Presumably, this was normal for a family with ten children, but he had no idea if they would be in a good mood or not. Odds were, they were frazzled, possibly even busy. Great, out of all the days he had to meet with them.

The front door slowly opens and as he straightens his posture and smiles the same fake smile he always did, it hits him that large, wide blue eyes are blinking up at him. He had expected an adult, but instead, he was staring down at a child. She didn't look much older than ten: she played with the hem of her little pink and white polka dotted dress, her medium-length, black hair was tied up in a ponytail with a large matching bow, and freckles speckled on her button nose. A brow raised and she frowned.

"Are you in a cult?" she asked before he could utter a word, her Transatlantic accent thick. "If you are, I'm shutting the door in your face. We're not interested."

"No, no, ma'am!" He took a step forward and tipped his hat. "I assure you, I'm not in a cult, so please keep that door open. Is your mother or father home?"

She crossed her arms. "You want to speak to daddy?"

"Why, yes, that would be nice." His smile faltered when her eyes narrowed. "Please, I've been trying to get in contact him for a few days now."

"Who are you from? If you're from the media, daddy said to shut the door in your face. We can't do interviews today."

"I'm from Vault-Tec. I need to speak to your father about some paperwork if that's okay. It shouldn't take very long," he said. George didn't feel comfortable discussing nuclear devastation to a child.

The little girl sighed and motioned him inside. "Here," she began as she leads him into the large, spacious parlor, "you can sit on the couch while I get daddy." She turned to go up the steps before stopping. "Don't touch anything!" she warned. "If you break anything, mommy will get really, really mad at me. She doesn't like strangers in the house."

"I promise, I won't." He chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Jess."

Ah, Jess… George had seen her a couple times on the children's magazines and newsreels. She was the baby of the family; the youngest daughter and possible child star. There had been rumors about the old man getting her into the movies and trying to make her the next Shirley Temple. She was a cute kid, he had to give her that.

Jess trudged up the stairs, leaving him sitting alone on the vintage, red Chaise Lounge. It was awkward. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined himself in the Harris estate, nonetheless sitting on their furniture. George can hear children yelling and arguing amongst themselves in the other rooms and decides to not venture further in the house. He was too enraptured by the room to anyway. It was like something out of a movie: most of the furniture had to be nearly two hundred years old, there was a large, very expensive Persian rug on the floor, an antique cabinet full of the finest china and dolls. What got his attention the most was the portraits hanging on the wall and small picture frames on the numerous tables.

In the center of the room, hanging over the fireplace were two large paintings of James Harris Sr. and his wife, Rachel. Their expressions were serious and they seemed to be staring down at him, almost as if they were disgusted that he would even be in their presence. He didn't belong here. James Harris' salt and pepper, thinning hair was slicked back; he wore thick glasses, an expensive black three-piece suit, and clung onto a golden watch as he stood over his desk. Rachel, on the other hand, wore all white in her portrait: her dress, her pearl necklace, her flats. She sat on a garden swing with a book in her hand; her brown hair was perfectly coiffed in a bob, her eyes were ice blue, and her lips were ruby red.

George moved over to one of the counters and picked up a frame that contained the picture of two young, handsome men in naval uniforms. They sat beside each other with large grins in contrast to the solemness of their parents. One brother was frailer than the other, though, his face gaunter, his shoulders less wide, and his arms thinner. That must've been Jack, the second eldest child in the family. His older brother, James Jr., had a more muscular body shape to him. Some of the other photos in the room had the two boys as children, rough-housing around in the dirt, on boats, or swimming; the daughters posing in elegant dresses, and pictures with the entire family.

Oddly enough, George couldn't find any pictures with Jess in them besides the ones with the entire Harris clan. Strange.

"Nice photos, huh?"

He nearly had a heart attack when he heard the voice behind him, turning around so fast he got whiplash, George put a hand on his chest. Leaning in the doorway with a pipe in his hand was James Harris Sr., wearing the same suit from his official portrait. He smirked as he watched the other's discomfort. "It's about damn time one of you Vault-Tec clowns showed up. I've been waiting for you."

"Funny, I could say the same thing, sir," George replied, his fear turning into annoyance, but he still kept his grin. "We've been calling you for days to set up appointments."

James took a smoke. "I wanted to see how interested Vault-Tec was in this deal. I gave my share; I didn't want to be screwed over." He put a hand in his pocket. "I needed Vault-Tec to come to me to see if they were serious and they did. I wish you had done so sooner, though. I have an event to go to today."

George said nothing, deciding not to put his foot in his mouth. He'd be a dead man if he screwed this deal up.

"Here, come up with me to my study," the Harris patriarch said, motioning him over with his finger. "We can discuss the registration there. I'm sure you don't want to be hearing the children."

Before George can answer, a baby wails in the distance. "I think that would be for the best," he nodded.

"That's my grandson, Shaun," James began as they walked up the steps. "He just turned a month old this week."

"Congratulations."

"He's a strong, big boy," he grinned. "I see a career in politics for him." He turned to George, glancing around the room. "My son-in-law throws a fit when I say that, though, so let's keep that between ourselves, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

After reaching the top of the steps, they continued down a long hallway leading to multiple rooms. Some of the doors were closed, but peeking into the ones that were opened, George could see they were bedrooms. One had two teenage girls sitting on the end of a bed applying makeup, another had a young boy reading comics on the floor. James stopped at one closed door and slowly opened it, the creaking of it causing a teenage boy sitting at a terminal to pause and rip off his RobCo headphones. His irritable scowl turned into a gasp when he saw his father standing in the doorway.

"Dad!" The young blond cried, standing up in his seat.

James crossed his arms. "Your mother was worried about you. According to her, you didn't come down for breakfast."

"Sorry, dad," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I've just been playing this game lately and I've been trying to beat my high score and-"

"I don't give a damn about your high score." James' eyes narrowed. "Nobody else in this neighborhood gives a damn either." Both the boy and George were taken aback by the venom in the older man's voice. "The sailing competition is next week and since Jr. isn't here and Jack will probably be out doing God knows what, I need you at your best. I need you to win."

"I will dad! I promise!"

"I better see you out on that boat practicing when I get back this afternoon or I'll throw your terminal out the window. I mean it, Richard."

The teenager panicked and bolted to his closet. "I-I'll get dressed right now-" he called before James shut the door.

James took a step before stopping, noting that George wasn't following."You're staring at me like I have two heads."

The salesman's breath hitched. "D-Don't you think that was kind of... harsh?" he stuttered.

"Harsh? Harsh is me not caring at all and letting him fail. We're the Harris family. We're not failures and we don't accept failures." James walked over to the end of the hallway, opening another door, and entered the study. "Do you have children?"

George thought the parlor was impressive, but the study was something else. On the walls were photos of James with every A-list star in Hollywood: Vera Keyes, Dean Domino, Mike Berlyn, and so many others. They even had their autographs on the bottom and nice messages for him. Movie posters were also hung up, including one for the Unstoppables that was coming out near Christmas.

"Do you have children?" He repeated.

"O-Oh, no." George snapped out of his childlike wonder. "No, I'm not married."

"I can tell."

James plopped down at his mahogany desk as George cautiously sat in one of the chairs across from him. "You're impressed aren't you?"

"Very much so, sir. You know Vera Keyes?"

"Know her?" He laughed. "I'm giving her the breakout role she needs." He looked up at the Unstoppables poster with a grin. "The Unstoppables is going to be the biggest movie of the decade- hell, even the century. I invested a lot into it."

George fiddled with his tie. "I'm sure it will be great."

"Vera's a beautiful girl," James began as he leaned forward, folding his hands. "A beautiful girl like her needs a better film than some shitty rom-coms that people will forget about in a year or two. With the state of the world deteriorating, superhero movies are all the rage. I think it's because people like to think that they can save them from the inevitable." His face darkened. "When it happens, those who took the initiative to save themselves and prepare are the ones who will survive."

"I agree, sir," George replied, uneased.

"To be truthful, when Vault-Tec first came to me and asked for my support, I was skeptical." He adjusted his glasses. "Only an idiot would think that everything's fine. Something's coming- you know it and I know it. I had been thinking of building my own vault for myself, but your superiors managed to convince me." James grinned. "They're smart over there. Few can change my mind once I have it made up."

George awkwardly chuckled. "I'm glad you came to your senses."

"The Harris family wouldn't survive for hundreds of years in a vault by themselves." James continued. "But, I don't want them to breed with outsiders and have our genes tainted by undesirables." He waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Undesirables?"

"People from the wastes who no doubt have radiation in their blood or are simply just the scum of the earth. Only the best are coming into this vault. The best people, the best technology, and the best way for the Harris name to live on."

"I don't understand."

He rolled his eyes. "You seem to not understand a lot of things," James retorted. "So, I'll explain this very, very slowly for you so you can process it. Memorizing all that Vault-Tec bullshit must have fried your brain." He ignored George's glare as he continued. "Nuclear devastation is coming. I tried to stop it as best as I could by doing attempting to convince the government out of China as an ambassador, but it's too late now. I'm not giving up my plans, though." He picked up a pamphlet on his desk and handed it over to the salesman. "My son, James Jr., will run for the Senate after he gets back from San Francisco and if all goes well, he'll get the White House in less than a decade."

George traced his finger over the glossy photo of James Jr.'s face before staring back up at him. "So, you're convinced he'll win?"

"Of course, Jr. is everything people want in a president: handsome, strong, charismatic. He'll win the White House, I'll make sure of it."

"And if he doesn't?" George asked, feeling as if he crossed the line.

James put his hands behind his back and paused. "I'll keep trying with another son or Shaun if I'm truly desperate, but that's not what I was getting at. What I'm getting at it is if- when- the world ends, the Harris family will be the ones to rise from its ashes. We're what that new world needs."

"A-Are you saying that you hope the bombs drop?"

"At first, I was terrified. I was terrified for my children's futures and how they would manage in the state of the world. But, then I realized I had it all wrong. Are you religious?"

George swallowed. "Not particularly, no."

"Me either, but in the book of Genesis, God tells Noah after the flood that he would never destroy the earth again by water. The whole story of Noah's ark was about purging the world and begin anew!"

"O-Okay."

"Perhaps, the best thing for humanity is to start over. Of course, there will be death and bloodshed, but after everything settles, the people outside will need to be civilized again. Perhaps, this time, they'll manage to do it right." James put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "It won't be easy, but my family's going to save them all."

Oh, this guy was batshit crazy. George actually would have preferred to be dealing with the snobs at this point. God, all the rumors at the office were true.

James stands back up, probably knowing that his tangent was distressing the other. "I realized I never offered you anything to drink. What kind of host doesn't offer their guest a drink?"

"Could I just have water?" George asked. "It's too early for alcohol and I'm not much of a drinker-"

"Good man, I can't stand drunks." The businessman pressed a button on his desk and in a matter of seconds, a Mister Handy puttered in. "Codsworth, how are you doing, chum?"

Codsworth's optic sockets narrowed as if he was smiling. "Fine and dandy, Master Harris! I could ask the same for you." He stopped when he saw George. "It appears we have an unexpected guest! I apologize for not greeting you sooner, but I was busy cleaning young Jack's room."

"You poor bastard."

"I found what most likely used to be a sandwich under the bed, but now it looks like a child's science experiment. I burned it."

James pointed at the Mr. Handy with a grin. "This guy is great. You don't even need servants if you got one of these around." He turned to the robot. "Could we have some water, buddy?"

"Of course, Master Harris! In a glass or a bottle?"

"A bottle. My friend here is going to need it while he's about the town today."

George watched as Codsworth pulled two water bottles out of his storage unit and began to fill them up. "There's a setting somewhere that I have yet to find, but he'll make sparkling water," James said. "Seriously, though, his water is amazing. Much better than the crap that's advertised from those tropical islands."

Funny, to George, water was water. The wealthy must have a lot of time on their hands to compare the taste of it. He took the bottle from Codsworth after it was filled and sipped it. "Thank you," he said, much more relieved.

"Hey, I have my vault now. The least I can do is give you some water for the road."

"Your vault?" George was taken aback, yet again. "This is a community vault, though."

"Yeah, yeah, sure it's the community's vault." James rolled his eyes as if the other was missing something- left in the dark or too stupid to know. George was used to it. He got those looks lot these past few days. "I'm probably keeping you from work and I have an event to go to this afternoon, so here's the form." He handed the salesman back his papers before motioning him to give back the pamphlet.

"Oh, I can't keep this?"

James shook his head. "I need it for this afternoon. I only made enough for those going to the banquet-"

"Wait a minute, you're campaigning for your son at a military banquet?" George's jaw dropped. He had seen the headlines from the Boston Bugle yesterday about a few members of the family attending a banquet and fundraiser for the troops. Apparently, his son-in-law was supposed to be speaking there. "Isn't that in poor taste, sir?"

"Politics always requires you to go below the belt." He replied, his friendly facade dissipating as he started to grow more annoyed. "Now, Codsworth, can you escort this man out? I have to get ready."

George felt the Mr. Handy's robotic claw on his back, leading him out of the study. "It's not wise to question, Master Harris," Codsworth warned. "You're lucky he didn't give you a tongue lashing for that."

They passed down the hallway again; children ran from room to room. The boy who had been reading comics before was chasing a wailing Jess with a ghoulish Halloween mask on his face and a fake chainsaw. She sprinted to George and climbed up him as if she were a monkey and clung onto him like a lifeline. "Oh my God!" He gasped, nearly falling back from the sudden force and weight.

The older boy cackled and ripped off his clown mask. "You're such a weenie, Jess!"

"Stop, leave me alone!" she sobbed. "Jack! Kelly!"

"Now, Master Theodore, is that how we're supposed to treat your baby sister?" Codsworth scolded.

"Come on, it was funny! You should have seen her!" Theodore cried as Jess' sniffled in the Vault-Tec representative's arms.

"I didn't think it was funny," Jess blubbered. George wasn't sure what to do or what to say; he was holding a stranger's child in their house. What would the adults think if they saw this? How could he explain himself? Should he comfort her?

Thankfully, a door opened and out came a young man in his mid-twenties with coiffed reddish-brown hair wearing a suit. He glanced at George and Jess and then at Theodore before rubbing his temples. "Jesus, Theo, what did you do?" he asked as Jess reached out for him like a baby. "Here, I got her," he said to George, taking the little girl.

Jess rested her head in the crook of his neck. "Jack..."

"You're alright, buddy," Jack murmured, running a hand through her hair. He turned to George and smirked. "Sorry about that, man," he apologized. "Once she gets scared, she'll climb up anybody. You're a little monkey, aren't you?" Jack tickled her and she giggled. "Yeah, you're a little monkey!"

Jess seemed to forget whatever she had been through a few minutes before and lit up. She wiped her eyes. George needed to get out of this house. This was too surreal. Codsworth seemed unaware of his plight; he was far too focused on patting Jess' head and handing her tissues.

Jack bounced her on his knee. "You're getting too heavy for this."

"No, I'm not!" She laughed, sticking out her tongue.

Just then, another door opened and a young, beautiful woman in a red sheath dress and piercing blue eyes staggered out. Her hair, which was the same shade as Jack's, was put up in a messy bun and all the makeup in the world couldn't hide the bags under her eyes. She put a hand on her hip, her mouth in a thin, straight line. "Let me guess," she began, aggravated. "Theodore bullied Jess again?"

"Of course, Kelly. It's an everyday occurrence at this point." Jack glared at his younger brother.

Kelly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sighed. "Theo, why don't you leave Jess alone? You know how sensitive she is."

"It's funny!"

"Not funny, you always make her cry," she snapped, "and then mommy and daddy yell at her because they hate crying." She frowned at Jess while playing with the younger's curls. "You know what daddy always says, right Jess?"

"Harrises don't cry."

Kelly smiled, nodding. "You got to be a big girl now and listen to daddy's advice, okay? Don't let him bother you. He's just jealous."

"Am not!" Theodore huffed.

"See," she winked, "when someone gets defensive, you know they're jealous."

Jess beamed; there was a twinkle in her eyes. As adorable as she was, George really, really needed to get out of here. He still had another house to hit before his lunch break and he felt like he was a spectator in a family circus. He glanced at Codsworth, hoping that he'd finish escorting him out. Maybe, he should just make a break for the steps and sneak away.

"You look good, Kelly," Jack says, "tired, though, but good."

Her eyes narrowed. "You try sleeping with a newborn. I haven't gotten a full night to myself in over a month."

"I guess it'll be good for you to be out this afternoon, huh?"

"I suppose so," Kelly frowned. "I just haven't left Shaun alone before. I hope he's okay."

"Hey," Jack replied, "mother raised ten kids and we all turned out fine. I'm sure Shaun will be okay for a few hours." He nuzzled Jess, rubbing their noses together, causing her to giggle again. "Besides, he's got the best aunts and uncles in the world looking after him! Ain't that right, Jess?"

"Yeah!"

Theodore stomped his foot. "I'm good with him, too!"

"That's debatable," his older brother scoffed. "Stay away from the baby with that mask of yours or you'll scar him for life."

George inched closer and closer to the stairs before Codsworth finally noticed him. "Ah, sir!" the Mr. Handy exclaimed, putting his claw back on his back. "I'm sorry for being so distracted and what just occurred! I'm sure you were ready to run for the hills! Forgive me for being a terrible host."

"It's fine, it's fine." George breathed a sigh of relief as he was led towards the door. "You must always have work, huh?" He nervously chuckled.

"It's never dull in this household. There's always something to do: someone may have thrown up in the parlor, or broke a vase while playing baseball, or caused the toilet to overflow. That's just a good day. Don't get me started on the bad ones!" Codsworth laughed as if he didn't have a care in the world. "But, serving the Harris family is what I was built to do and I'm quite proud! They only want the best, so it's an honor that they picked me out of all the other Mr. Handy's out there. I'm lucky!"

The robot's optimism was contagious. "You're a happy son of a gun, you know that?" George walked out to the porch and back in the sunlight. God, it felt great to be out of that fun house. "Thank you again for the water!" he called as he began to make his way back to his van. "Have a good day."

"As do you, good sir! Please come again!" Codsworth waved before shutting the door.

 _Christ, the boys at the office were going to have a field day when he got back._


End file.
